|
Artist's Gallery!
All the paintings currently shown below are done by Dawn Stevens
of Mystic Eye.
They are in no particular order. Please note that all
images presented on this and all other pages are
copyrighted and may not be used without specific written
permission by Mystic Eye, Dawn Stevens, or any other artist represented here. To
request permission to use images, artwork, make purchases,
etc.... please contact us at artwork@themysticeye.com.
| Page 1 | Page
2 | Page3
| Page 4 | Page 5 |
Page 6 |
|
Below are
paintings that are quite personal. The first deals with
sexual repression, a problem for most women in most
cultures. The rest are a chronicle of my personal
experiences with miscarriage, the painful realities of the
efforts of my husband and I to have a child. Love and
blessings to Obsidia, Zoe and Zane. I still miss you.
|
 
|
Untitled
1996
Oil paint on stretched canvas.
This piece is actually an understudy for a large self
portrait that I have been working on for almost a decade
now. A ghost like hand creeps up to sew my nether
regions shut. Like many women, my parents seemed more
concerned with preserving my virginity than much else.
All actions and decisions regarding me were made and
broken on this one idea. So sad to think that young
girls are taught so early this contradiction of thought.
Your sex is your only important value, now be certain to
not be sexual.
|
"Miscarraige"
1998
Acrylic on stretched canvas.
The green mound of belly, soft covering of what should
be fertile womb, gives way to the death color blue.
Oxygenless, lifeless body, expelling blood tissue, meant
to be holding my baby in tender care. My yani is without
clitoris, my sexuality non-existent in this barren death
scene. This tiny mass of cells, so formless yet so full
of life's promise, now broken and expelled. There is
nothing else on the canvas, my whole life is whittled
down to this one singular moment of spent hope. |
 
|
"Baby
Zoe"1998
Acrylic paint on stretched canvas.
This painting still can make me cry. I painted this
while at work, glorying in all the attention I got, the
new mother to be. I had read every book I could find,
and peered at scads of pictures, desperate to know what
my baby looked like now. In the end, I closed my eyes
and 'saw' her for myself. By now, I had already
discovered that I had originally had twins. One of them
passed away, the tiny amount of water from his so small
water bag escaping from between my legs, terrifying me
with it's implications. I remember how happy my husband
and I were to see the tiny heartbeat of the one
remaining, yet so sad for the one who had left us. They
told me I had a tumor. We hoped and prayed our remaining
child would be strong. So many mixed emotions.
|
"Zoe"
1999
Acrylic paint on stretched canvas.
This piece is yet unfinished. I am afraid to finish it.
When it is done, so is my connection to my daughter. I
have visited the place I gave her and her brother's
bodies to rest, but I can feel that they are no longer
there. This painting is my last thread. I started this
while Zoe was still alive. She died sometime before I
gave birth to her and her earlier dead brother. I must
have somehow sensed her passing, for as I started to
spot more and more often, the painting got darker and
more menacing each time I picked up brush and squeezed
paint. No amount of reassurance from the doctor relieved
my sense of impending wrongness. I painted in gills
early on in the painting process, was I hoping to impart
some trait, some attribute that would help her to live?
No matter, she is gone. |
|
|
"Zoe"
2000
Acrylic paint on stretched canvas.
I have finished the painting of Zoe. Upon
finishing this painting, I finally felt a sense
of peace. I found myself painting a magical
spark at my daughter's fingertip, as well as a
cosmic lumniscate above her head. I sense her
spirit as infinite, I sense that she had some
purpose. When I miscarried Zoe, they found that
I had a fibroid tumor. For two years, no doctor
would take my condition serious, but I knew
something was terribly wrong. Just this year, we
finally found a doctor to remove the tumor. As I
had sensed, the condition was much worse than
the previous doctors had thought. My uterus was
fused to my bowel, and my tumor was twisting my
insides into knots. It took two surgeries, but I
am finally well and ready to try again. I love
you Zoe, and you can come back to me or not as
you see fit.
(side note: I have since had a beautiful
daughter by the name of Raven!) |
|
NEXT PAGE
|
|
